The Root of the Root
by ArianaKristine
Summary: I Carry Your Heart Series, AU-based one-shots.
1. Two Products, All in One

**Author's Note**: So, after some debate, I have decided to split the one-shots into two categories: In-Verse (The Wonder That's Keeping the Stars Apart) and this, The Root of The Root. These will be AU one-shots, but based on the events of the beginning of (I Carry It in My Heart).

I will be taking requests for this and for The Wonder That is Keeping the Stars Apart, but I am trying not to let my muse get ahead of itself!

**Title**: Two Products, All in One

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Once Upon a Time or its characters.

**Summary**: Graham never died and how that happened.

* * *

She pulls her tank top over her head, adjusting it back over her body, and then pushes her hands against the desk. She worries her lip a little with her teeth.

Was this the brightest idea?

In the simplest terms, breaking her actions into pieces, it sounds downright _terrible_: sleeping with her boss, not long after he broke up with Regina, right after she and her antagonist had a fist fight. She had often gotten herself into these kinds of situations, choosing the wrong moments, making the wrong decisions.

As much as logic tells her this could be the wrong step … something else says it is exactly the right one.

Not that this is like the one-nighters that she's had before. No, being with Graham … her body tingles as she thinks about it, as she hears the gentle rustling of him pulling clothing items back onto himself from behind her. It isn't simply the fact that they had just had mind-blowing sex – well, there _is_ that. But there is also the way he looks at her, the way he had held her. There was definitely something in his eye beyond merely easing the sexual tension that was always between them. Even that hadn't been the end to their feelings before. Whenever she is around him, she feels happy, playful, _herself_. Even when they were fighting, she couldn't find it in her to _truly_ be angry with him.

And this? It feels real, fulfilling in a way she can't describe.

Suddenly, he curls an arm around her waist, breaking her from her thoughts. He pulls her back to his chest, pressing whiskered kisses along her neck. She sighs in contentment, entwining their fingers where they linger along the bare skin of her abdomen, just below her navel.

She turns her head, and he brushes her nose with his. He chuckles a little, his eyes so light and happy. She can see every fleck of brown in his blue eyes, a star-scape in his gaze.

"Hi," he says simply.

She smiles back, tentatively. "Hi."

There is something in his stare, that awe that just shocks her. Is that truly just for _her_? He catches her lips with his, and she sinks into the kiss, letting him take the lead. He pulls back with a short gasp after a second, but he remains with his arms around her, pressing their joined hands a little more into her belly.

He looks slightly dazed, that same expression as was after the first kiss tonight. He looks a little confused, but then he chuckles. He takes their interlaced fingers and twists her around.

"It feels real," he murmurs as he kisses her again, pressing their hands against his chest.

Her brow furrows, but she doesn't pull back. Under her palm, the beats feel … solid. There _is_ something different. She tries to ignore it, tries to ignore the nagging thoughts about his state of mind earlier, and focuses on tracing his mouth with her tongue. He pulls back with a smile.

"Somehow … you made it real, Emma. I –" he cuts off, looking at her in stunned relief. He cups her face and kisses her again. She moans against the sheer force of it.

She licks her lips as he pulls away, her blood spiking again. "I helped you find it?" she says slyly, thinking they are finally to the metaphor now.

He laughs. "Yeah, I guess you did," he says thoughtfully, twisting a lock of her hair in his fingers. Then, he shakes his head. "Come on, princess, I'll take you home."

Her nose wrinkles in distaste. "Princess? Where did you dig that one up?"

He smirks and pulls her forward by belt loops, then fastens the button on her pants. His fingers brush the skin just slightly, gliding across to ignite a trail of pleasure-stung nerves, and she shivers. "You would prefer Your Highness?" he asks, his tone teasing.

She grimaces. "You've been talking too much with Henry," she deduces.

He shrugs. "Could be."

She chuckles, pressing her face into his shoulder. She looks down and giggles, noticing that his shirt hangs off his body oddly now, without buttons on the bottom third. "Where's your vest? I think people may get the right idea if we walked out right now," she teases.

He looks down at his shirt with a wry grin, pulls the waistcoat over his shoulders, and slings the tie over his neck. "You were a bit eager," he murmurs against her lips, and she shakes her head with a smirk. She can't _quite_ deny that. She takes a second to breathe him in, that woodsy clean scent that clings to his skin. It's comforting.

She breaks out of his embrace and practically skips toward the door. She just feels … light. She looks back, peeking at him through eyelashes. "You could drop me off. Or, we could get a room at Granny's," she suggests. She isn't sure she's ready to let him go quite yet.

He saunters toward her, confidence in his walk that she rarely sees. "How about my place. It's quieter, no prying questions from judgmental septuagenarians …." He seems to notice the unease in her eyes because he quickly adds, "you will be the first person to ever visit my apartment."

She looks away slightly and then looks back. He can't possibly read her that well already, right? She looks into his eyes and realizes that, somehow, he can. "Sounds perfect." Maybe … maybe they can make that place theirs as well.

He pulls her to him, breathing in her hair in a way that seems so intimate. "Should we grab some food before we go?" he murmurs.

She nods, a grin forming on her face. "You may need the energy," she teases.

His eyebrows rise and he offers a dimpled smile of his own. "Can't pass that up," he says with a laugh. His calloused fingers brush her stomach again, teasingly. She shivers, feeling the action all over her. He presses another kiss to her lips, short and sweet. "Let's get out of here, Deputy."

"Lead the way, Sheriff," she says, grabbing his hand in hers. She leans her head on his shoulder as they leave.

It feels like a beginning.


	2. Pink Hearts and Chocolate Candy

Title: Pink Hearts and Chocolate Candy

Note: Part of The Root of the Root collection, and the I Carry Your Heart Series. AU, Graham never died. Previously on Tumblr.

Summary: The first Valentine's Day.

* * *

It's Valentine's Day. What a ridiculous occasion. Pink hearts and red arrows and cherubs along every window. Chalky candy in gaudy boxes, stuffed animals playing saccharine music … it's too much.

The reason that Emma's in the drugstore that morning doesn't help things one bit.

Oh, it's not because she has a significant other now, on this sugar-coated day. In fact, they've decided against anything to do with the holiday. They have work as usual. He got there earlier that morning, she'll come in a bit later, and then they'll both close up early and just go to his place after picking up take out, just like usual. They have no plans, no gift exchanges.

No, Clark's Pharmacy has drawn her presence for an entirely different reason. It just seems that the sappy expressions of love on every corner only mock her in her pursuit.

She hesitates along the edge of the aisle, peeking down it with a muffled groan of protest. It's ridiculous. She's over-reacting. She doesn't need the item; she was stupid to consider it.

She turns on her heel, walking down the drug aisle, pulling down a pack of tums, hesitates once more, than grabs a bottle of folic acid.

She walks back down towards the register, then stops. With an angry huff, she turns again, rushing down the first aisle. She passes diapers and condoms and grabs a test, flinging it into the basket on her arm before stomping back to the register.

She tries not to glare down the kid at the register, she really does. The teen looks more bored than anything else, barely looking at the things passing by the scanner. Still, she feels like she's on display. The town's deputy, buying a pregnancy test on Valentine's Day. She half-wonders whether she should have bought another pack of condoms, just in case the test really _was_ unnecessary.

But as she gets in her car and turns on the ignition, she feels a heaviness. She doesn't expect a little negative sign in the window, once she takes it. She should have recognized the signs more than a month ago. Hell, she should have noticed back in December, after her body first acted like a defective typewriter. But it's all been too new, having an actual boyfriend, dodging Regina and her attempts to condemn their employment, and dealing with the kid and his theories. And after all this, she's quite certain that a cross will appear where she almost hopes a minus takes its place.

She shoves the paper bag into her purse before going into the station. Graham is there in his office, his eyes lighting up in her presence. He is on the phone, giving her a wide smile before rolling his eyes as he points to the receiver. She manages part of a smile, turning towards her desk, trying desperately to distract herself.

She swallows hard, bringing the stack of paperwork to her desk. She stares at it blankly for a moment and then rises, moving to the coffee pot and fiddling with the handle. If she is … she can't have coffee anymore. She glares at the grounds, willing them to be healthier.

As she contemplates this, an arm snakes its way around her, whiskered kisses brushing against her neck. Her eyes roll back, soaking in the warm touch. Then his fingers ease under her top, resting on the skin of her belly, and her heart just drops.

"Good morning?" he asks into the hollow of her throat, tongue lashing out to tease her skin.

"Mm," she replies in a non-committal tone.

She can feel his smile on her neck, a warm chuckle vibrating against her back. "Valentine's getting to you?" he asked.

She shakes her head. "Not more than usual," she replies hollowly.

The pads of his fingers start tracing slow circles just below her belly button. Unwillingly, she starts to shake.

His movements stop and he spins her around gently. His eyes are so deeply concerned that she has to look away. One hand cups her jaw, thumb caressing her cheek. "Em, what is it?" he asks.

She winces. "I think I'm pregnant."

He's silent a moment. She takes the chance to meet his eyes and she is blown away by the restraint in them. But the shine he is so desperate to keep back …. "Have you … have you taken a test?" he asks, his voice hoarse.

She shakes her head. "Not yet," she says. She juts her chin towards her purse. "Bought one this morning. But … but Graham, if I am … it would have been one of the first times."

She can practically see him counting. "So you would be …."

"Almost three months along," she finished. His hands move again to settle against her stomach, his eyes distant. "I … I'd have to make a decision fast."

His head snaps up, a flash of fear in his eyes briefly before he covers it up. "You … do you know what you want?" he asks tentatively.

Her eyes burrow into his, before bouncing across his form. "Do you?"

He takes one of her hands in his, tracing her palm. His eyes close, and the hand that remains on her stomach shifts just slightly, encompassing the area between her hipbones. "I think I do," he murmurs. "But it doesn't matter. I told you; I'm letting you steer."

Her lip twitches up, just slightly. She will admit that this is one aspect that has helped her so much in their relationship. He gives her the reins, lets her guide them. He gives her room, he doesn't push her past her limits. He presses tentatively at her walls, which is the best way to get them to fall. But now, right now, when they're considering not just them …. She knows it's different this time. But she's glad she knows his opinion, either way.

"No use in this conversation if it's not for sure, right?" she says with a grimace. He blinks before nodding.

"You're going to take it?" he asks.

She walks to her purse, taking out the test as if it weighed fifty pounds more. "I'll be back," she says stiffly.

He grabs her arm before she can walk past him. "I'll wait with you," he says, his eyes searching her face.

"'Kay," she replies simply. She tries to cover the fact that the thought of him by her side is comforting.

She feels a bit petty, but she locks the door behind her when she enters the restroom. She knows he is on the other side, pressed up against the door from the shadow at the crack. She can't let him in, not right now. But she can feel his support.

She fiddles with the packaging for an agonizing moment, before reading and re-reading the directions. She hates herself for putting off the inevitable; this is not the first test she's ever taken. Finally, she blows out a last frustrated breath and just goes through the damn procedure in rigid, precise movements.

She opens the door with the test clutched in her hands, eyes dropped to the floor. "Two minutes," she murmurs, twisting the cover in hand.

"That's a long time," Graham replies, a small, broken smile forming over his face. She nods in a jerking movement. In one move, he scoops her close, pulling her into his chest and smoothing a hand down her curls. "Whatever happens, Em. Whatever. I'm here."

She lets out a shaky sigh, feeling an annoying prickle of tears behind her eyes. "Yeah," she responds hollowly, because she does know. Even though they haven't been together long, even though she hasn't let herself trust anyone in years, even though she shouldn't let him in so soon … she knows. He wouldn't leave her. Even if she pushed him away, he'd still be there, just on the outside edges of what she'd allow.

They stand there, Emma trying to be stiff in his all-consuming embrace, for three minutes. Emma watches the clock on the wall, and she knows he is, too. But when two minutes pass, neither move. At the three minute mark, he presses a kiss to her head, tightening his arms around her shoulders.

"If it's positive … there's something between us," she finally says, incredulously. "There's something we … we made."

She can feel him swallow, his adam's apple bob against her forehead. "I want it," he admits, his voice so desperately, achingly soft.

She pulls back, looking into his eyes again. He's avoiding looking directly at her, his lashes brushes against the tops of his cheekbones as if he's ashamed to admit it to her. "Graham … Graham, it's your decision, too. If it's real," she says.

He presses his forehead to hers, then lets his lips caress hers gently. "I don't want to scare you away. I want us. You fit me like no one else does. And I don't want to force something on you."

She holds the test limply in her hand, a little surprised by his revelation. She knows he felt this way, in each way he so cautiously approaches her, in the way he looks at her. It's just that she never expected him to say it out loud. "You wouldn't force me just by you saying what you want, Graham. You're telling me your thoughts on the matter, and that's just as important as mine. If … if I am, it's _ours_. Not just mine."

He trails a hand down her arm, grasping the test and her hand in his hand. With a thumb, he traces soothing circles on her skin. "And I still haven't heard what you're thinking," he reminds gently.

She looks up. Seeing him so close is beautiful in a way she can't describe. "I'm terrified. I can't … it's us, Graham. And you're the first person in so long that I've wanted in this way … and not just for now, but … but for a long time. And if I'm … I am, then, _that's_ us, too. I just don't know if I could do it alone again."

He's shaking his head almost violently, releasing his grip to cup her face reverently. There it is again, that emotion that she can so starkly read in his expression, even if she fears the words. "_Never_. You would _never_ do this alone. If you are, I will try my hardest to be the kind of father you would be proud of, to love you and it in the deepest way I can." She pales at his blatant and almost side-lined way of telling her that he loves her. But his smile is so blinding right now, so hopeful and desperate for her to understand that she can't even let the fear sink in. "If we're not, then I will spend as long as you'll let me convincing you that I won't ever leave your side. Because that's what I want, Emma. I want a family with you, even if it just means you, me, and Henry."

She sobs out once, looking away. It's hard, being so vulnerable, but unable to turn away from him. Because he is exposing his deepest layer to her right now. And he includes Henry, always, and never suggests he is anything less than the most important person in her life. He loves Henry, too, and it makes it all the more simple to snap and crush her lips against him. The test clatters to the ground as she fists the collar of his shirt to pull him closer. He eagerly responds, kissing her just as deep. When she finally pulls back, her vision is still blurred. "How? Why do you love me?" she asks, letting a tear finally escape.

He touches her nose with his, smiling. "I am so lucky you keep me around," he says, the joke thinly layered to cover the nervousness she can see bubbling beneath the surface. "I love you, for so many reasons that I could list. And I will, if you need me to. But at the end, I just love you for things I _can't_ list." He grabs her hand again, smoothing it across his chest. "You made this real. And I couldn't imagine loving anything more than I do you and Henry, but if you are … I will love our baby just as much, even if I am so scared that it won't be enough."

She huffs a laugh through her tears, a jolt of emotion that she can't hold down. She reasons that it must be hormones, because she can't think of a single time she's ever let herself be this raw and exposed. Her eyes flicker to the floor. She takes his hand firmly and then gestures to it with her chin. "We're going to find out how it's going to work."

He looks down, and she can see the utter awe that crosses his face as he looks at the light blue that covers the window of the pregnancy test. "We're going to have a baby," he whispers.

She finally smiles, widely and with a hope that is so different that the worry than invaded her earlier in the day. "We're going to have a baby," she echoes, finally feeling the weight of it. It isn't just that she is pregnant. It is that they are going to have a child. They are going to be _parents_.

He drops to his knees in front of her, and for a split second a shudder of fear courses through her that he is proposing. She is not ready for that. Instead, he presses his hand onto her abdomen, picking up her shirt and staring at the curve that she had sworn blind for the past month was due to not chasing down criminals and overeating at Granny's.

She giggles, pulling her fingers through his hair with one hand and using the other to rest on his. "There's a person in there," she says, feeling the heaviness melt away. She feels … giddy. She hasn't felt this way in over a decade, but the love in his eyes is enough to make her feel like everything is perfect.

He grins, pressing his face into the skin, his eyes fluttering shut. "Our person," he murmurs, pressing his lips to the place a few inches below her navel.

Her giddiness melts into something softer, more real. She smiles, pulling her fingers through the messy strands again and hugging him to her. "Yeah. Ours."


	3. A Day Out

Title: A Day Out

Note: Prompted from Tumblr.

Summary: They need a quiet moment.

* * *

There are some things that bother Graham.

Some days, he wishes that he didn't remember. That he never got the memories of decades of abuse, of a lifetime of solitude and pain.

He wishes that Regina doesn't still loom over him, reminding him, casting dark looks as she tried to probe just how much he remembers and having to try as hard as he could not to give anything away.

Sometimes, he even wished that Emma didn't still need to break the curse one day. Because once she did, he might lose the first person he ever loved once and for all. She is a princess, after all, and he is well below her station.

He can recall every moment that he had been reminded of such in the old world, that he was even less than a peasant. He was far lower: an animal to be kicked around, mocked, and not given a second glance. Fionn was the only one to think he could be more than that, and he had disappeared from his life almost as soon as he entered it.

Rationally, he knew Emma didn't think like that, and that their love and their child would be more than enough to negate the gap. But some days, he just couldn't help the panic.

Some days his worries are simpler, though. Today, he also wishes he could cross the town line without worrying that something bad will happen. He wants to give her as much of a real relationship as he can while he is still able to be with her. Trips to cities not in the shadow of the curse are impossible.

The woods are the next best thing.

The forest is calm, private. No one wanders around here too often, especially since the curse still lingers on the fringes, tying people to their cycles. It's why he picked here for a day off, something to cool down in the midst of the mess with Gold.

He crosses his hands behind his head, sighing as she shifts to lay her head on his chest. The basket that had been eagerly filled by Ruby earlier that day is half empty now, scattered along the side of them. A blanket is spread out beneath them, and a softer one covering their bodies. They are stretched over the grassy meadow, dappled in sunlight on this bright early spring day. They fit so well in each other, so comfortably. They've eased into a boneless sort of relaxation, lazily leaning in to each other. It was a well-earned day, a break finally fit into their chaotic schedule.

Carefully, he pulls his arm around her, settling low on her belly. "This is nice," he murmurs into her hair.

"Mm," she hums in agreement. Her voice is soft, intimate in its languidness. "We should do this again. I mean, the picnic part. Maybe we can get Henry out here."

He smiles, entwining their fingers to bring her hand to his lips. "It would be a good place to tell him," he replies. Privacy would be key when it came time.

She sighs, rolling the other hand over the small bump that barely protrudes from her body. They've been keeping the little one secret for a long time now. Already well into her fifth month, she is still barely showing and unnoticeable to all but him.

Some of the townsfolk have their suspicions, he knows. Mary Margaret side-eyes them ever since she caught him skimming his hands across her belly one morning. Marco, who still occasionally does some volunteer paper work at the office, has been grinning up a storm in their presence, dropping comments about his crafting skills. Granny especially has been giving him looks whenever he orders one coffee and one tea before work, slipping extra healthy or craving-curbing treats into his to go bag but offering no verbal comment.

But all in all, he doesn't mind that the knowledge is only truly shared between them. He loves to pull his hands over her skin when they are alone, discovering the new dips and curves of her stomach, the slow stirrings of their child beneath her skin. It feels like a secret that glows between them, a connection only they can see. But he thinks it would be _amazing_ to have Henry share in it as well.

She seems troubled by the idea, though. Her brow is suddenly creased, worried. "Yeah, I guess."

He tucks her closer, pressing a kiss on her forehead. "Might be nice for us to actually tell him, rather than waiting for his sibling to get old enough to hold up a sign," he jokes dryly.

She rolls her eyes. "I know. Just –" she hesitates and then wraps her arms around herself. She looks away sharply.

"You know he wouldn't tell Regina. He barely speaks to her as it is," he says carefully, wondering if that's her main concern.

She closes her eyes, her mouth tightening and untightening a few times as she gains a handle on her emotions. "Well, that's one thing," she murmurs.

"And the other?" he asks.

Her eyes snap open, staring blankly beyond him. Her eyes shine before purposefully dulling, and his heart twists to see the sudden pain hidden beneath those ocean-shaded irises. "The Swans gave me back when they got pregnant. I don't want him to think I'll do the same, that I'll forget him or try to replace him," she finally admits, her words brisk and toneless.

He looks down at her a long moment, trying to comprehend it. His eyes flicker across her face, up and down her form, and he aches with the knowledge. _Cowards, selfish cowards_. He leans down, pressing soft kisses along her collarbone and shoulder as if it could wipe away the hurt. "He won't think that. _Ever_. We'll make sure of it, Em."

She nods. It's a quick, jerky action that pulls a sigh from his lips. He loves her so much. He wonders when she'll realize that _she_ isn't replaceable. _Ever_. But years of thinking the opposite will not be healed by a few months of devotion. It's fine by him; if he has the chance to fight his whole life to prove he'll always be there, he'll gladly take it.

"Henry loves you, and he knows how much you love him back. Together, we'll figure out the best way to show that his sister will only add to how much love he gets," he whispers against her skin.

"Brother," she automatically corrects. She blows out a low breath, turning to face him more fully. Her face is struck by a certain vulnerability. "You love him, don't you? And not just because you have to."

He smiles. "Yes," he responds simply, even as his mind counts the ways he's always cared about that kid. He touches her nose with her, breathing her in. "And I love you two," he finishes, leaning down to kiss the crest of her stomach.

She sniffs, trying to cover the sound with a low cough. "Sure, fine. We'll tell Henry," she mumbles.

"Good," he replies. He presses his cheek to her belly and looks up at her. "She's happy, too."

She chuckles, reaching down to pull her hand through his hair. "_He's_ happy. All my boys," she says, a cautious smile overtaking her features.

He shakes his head, grinning. He reaches over to grab a fork-full of chocolate cake, bringing it to her lips. "Me and Henry will be spoiling our women," he counters.

She narrows her eyes playfully before taking the offered bite. "Bet's on, Sheriff."

He leans over her, kissing her slowly, taking the chocolate right off her lips. "I think I win either way, Deputy."


	4. Stability

**Title**: Stability

**Note**: Previously on Tumblr.

* * *

The door jerks open and then slams shut.

He knows already that she's had a bad day.

He enters the living room, watching her toss her keys down and yank off her coat, pulling frustrated fingers through her long hair. He leans against the wall, watching her carefully, knowing better than to ask right away.

She finally looks up, meeting his eye. "Regina," she explains darkly. It is the only thing she has to say.

Graham nods solemnly. He knows she has been giving her an even worse time lately. He knows it must have something to do with the curse, how it hangs in the balance so precariously as Emma refuses to leave. He walks forward, pressing his palms against her swollen belly, and rests his chin on her shoulder.

"You're stressing yourself out. It's not good for baby," he murmurs, trying to pull her focus, if only for a minute. The baby kicks out under his palm, and he smiles, rolling his hands over her stomach. "See, she agrees."

Emma offers a tired smile. "_He_ agrees," she corrects. He looks up with a smile. They've been debating this for the past four months, and he doesn't see either one backing off anytime soon.

He pulls his hands around to rest on her back, slowly massaging the tense muscles as he rests her side gently against him. "Anything new?" he murmurs into her forehead.

She scowls. "Archie says I don't have a leg to really stand on, if I tried to get custody."

Graham's eyes flutter closed. He wants Henry out of Regina's hands, perhaps even more than Emma. He knows _exactly_ who Regina is. "I'm sorry. We'll find something. Archie isn't a lawyer. There has to be some sort of loophole."

Emma shakes her head. "I need to look more stable. Regina's a mayor, she's rich, she's powerful."

"And you have a steady job. You're not destitute. Yes, we don't have as much money, but you are just as capable of raising him," he murmurs. He winces at the irony of the statement; Emma is a genuine, blood-born princess, who has a whole kingdom to her name. Sometimes he forgets that, how mismatched he is to her. That their daughter would carry the same title. Or son, if she's right; but he has an inkling he's correct in his assumption.

Emma looks up at him. "There's one way I can look more stable," she says, drawing out the words a little.

He smiles. "What do you need? I'll do anything I can to help you."

A flash of vulnerability settles over her features, a striking mix of anticipation and fear. She worries her lip, and he brings a hand to cup her cheek, thumb brushing over her skin. She finally tilts her head to the side, meeting his eye with renewed strength. "Marry me?"

His mouth goes dry, finally understanding her worry. "Wh-what?"

She gives a half-smile and shrugs one shoulder. "I mean, we're together, we like each other, we're having this thing," she gestures to her middle before swallowing visibly. "I … it would show something Regina doesn't have."

He stares at her, shock coursing through him. Yes, it makes sense; perfect sense, really. Yes, he loves her, more than he ever thought possible. Yes, they are having a child, who he becomes more and more in awe of every day. Yes, they are already family, and this would just be solidifying that idea.

... But he's still lying to her.

By not telling her about the curse, by not telling her what Regina really is … how can he say yes with a clear conscious? "Emma –"

She shakes her head. "Forget it. It was a stupid idea," she says, yanking out of his arms and walking toward the bedroom.

He pulls a hand through his hair before following her. "Em, stop."

She doesn't, slamming the door behind her and the lock clicks into place.

He sighs, leaning his forehead against the frame. "Emma, I'm sorry. I just … we should talk about this," he reasons. He doesn't want to hurt her. That's the _last_ thing he wants to do.

There is only silence, stretching tense and hard.

"I want forever with you. I told you that. You, Henry, the baby? I told you: you three are my family. And if you think we have to get married to get Henry back, then let's do that. But I don't want you to move ahead of what you're feeling," he reasons.

The silence stretches on before finally the lock pops back open. The door cracks. "It would just be a legal arrangement," she says. Her voice is stiff, placed. He can hear the threat of tears behind it, knowing instinctively that she hates it as well. She has said numerous times that she hated how the hormones made her feel. He thinks it's more to do with the fact that, with them, she can't _hide_ what she feels.

He nods. "We can do that. But what do you want, Emma?"

The door widens, revealing her pale face. "I don't know. I just want Henry," she says brokenly.

He hugs her to him, careful to do so gently, so she won't stiffen in his embrace. "I know. I do, too. But we can look into other options, too. We don't have to get married if you're not ready."

She sniffs. "'Kay."

He pulls back, rolling his thumbs over her cheeks. "_Are_ you ready?"

She stares at him a long moment, finally shaking her head. "No. It's too much," she finally admits.

He offers a smile, resting his hands on her stomach again. "I know. We have to deal with a lot right now. Maybe some day we can. Today, Em, I know you're not there. We'll find another way," he says.

She nods. "Yeah. Yeah, sure," she responds.

Someday they will. _After_ the curse breaks.


	5. An Honorable Man

**Title**: An Honorable Man

**Summary**: 2 prompts from Tumblr. Daddy!Charming post-curse, and how Emma deals with it.

**Note**: The prompts I got were very similar to plotlines found in Diddykongfan's Stars verse. Check there if you want something stricter to those!

* * *

They always said they would always find each other. He had faith in that. But he wasn't sure he ever truly _knew_ until he sees his daughter, for the first time since the curse broke.

He watches as Snow cradles Emma's face, studying her for a long moment. For the first time, his eyes bounce across the young deputy's features with a poignant understanding: Snow's chin and eyes, his hair and cheeks … their _daughter_. Twenty-eight years … could it have possibly been that long?

He cautiously comes closer as Snow tugs the woman into an embrace, tearful. "You found us," she sobs out. From his vantage, he can see Emma's eyes squeeze shut painfully, stiff in the hug.

Finally, finally, he can't resist, reaching out to cup the back of her head. _Here_ is where it solidifies. He can still feel the whispers of a memory that feels like yesterday, of holding an infant close to his body in only one arm. For him, and his awareness, it was only been eight months ago that he had seen her like that. Even the cursed memories that had been forcibly inserted into his head didn't capture the length of time like his reality did.

Now, she is fully grown, strong and brave and lovely. He gasps back a breath, the disbelief swirling with the reality of having her in his arms again.

His arm tightens around both his wife and daughter, feeling the emotion bleed over into tears from his own eyes, listening to Emma shudder from between her parents.

"Grandpa?" a small voice calls.

Snow bursts out nervous, giddy laughter, not daring to pull away. David squeezes them once more before breaking away, chuckling through his tears. The boy's head is cocked to the side, watching them in a sort of awe. "Yeah, kid. I suppose so."

Henry bolts forward, hugging him around the waist. David lets a grin cover his face. His grandchild. This is definitely something new to consider. "She did it. She saved you," Henry says proudly.

"She saved all of us," Snow breathes proudly.

Emma blanches. "I … I did?"

Snow nods furiously, letting a soft smile grace her features. "And Emma, this one. You really are. I …. Wow. Grandparents again," Snow stumbles out, bringing one hand down to rest on her stomach.

David looks down, finally noticing the distention at Emma's waist, the fullness of a child in her womb. "More?" he sputters, then breaks into a larger grin. Their family … expanding? It seems an even greater insult to Regina's curse, their family growing and evolving despite all that happened.

Emma's face twists, and she turns away from them both. She brings a shaky hand to her head, pulling down the long strands. "Oh, God, the curse. Everyone's back to their real selves … I—" She cuts herself off, hugging her middle.

"Emma?" he asks, finally feeling a frown tug down the sides of his lips.

She brings a fist to her mouth, eyes shining. Her eyes are flickering back and forth to the others reuniting in the town center. "Everyone's going back to how it was before," she says wheezily.

Snow shakes her head, obviously understanding what he doesn't. "No, Emma … Emma, he won't leave you."

David's eyes snap to her waist again as it dawns on him where her worries lie. His mind sifts through cursed memories like flashcards, over the potential fathers. Finally, he remembers the Sheriff gripping his Deputy's hand in the back of a diner, of David stepping into the office to see the two centimeters apart, of lingering stares ... intimate moments that were quickly shied away from in public. His jaw sets. "You think he would?" he voices.

"Graham wouldn't do that," Snow says confidently. "The Huntsman was an honorable man."

Apparently, that is the wrong thing to say. Emma's face absolutely crumples, sobbing hard into her hands. Henry reaches to comfort her, but she merely bats him away.

"The Huntsman," he murmurs. He remembers him quite clearly now, those brief moments in which he helped free David from Regina's fury. But he also remembers the assassin, the villages burned to the ground at the Queen's behest. "He doesn't have a heart," he reminds. This also means, he thinks with some sympathy, that the man can't love his daughter.

Emma rubs her fingers across her face, making red tracks onto pale skin. "He's not supposed to just be '_honorable_,'" she hisses out.

Snow looks troubled, but nods. "Of course," she murmurs. Then she pets back her hair cautiously, like their daughter is a skittish animal. "No matter what, you'll still have her."

She scowls, sniffing back further emotion. "He promised me. He _promised_ I wouldn't do it alone," she bites out.

"And you won't be," David cuts in. "You'll have us, regardless."

She grimaces and looks away. She swallows visibly, and another tear courses down her cheek.

"Of course it wouldn't be the same," Snow cuts in, rubbing her arm. "But you won't ever be alone. Not anymore. We're your _family_, Emma."

David's spine straightens. "He'll be by your side," he says coolly, stomping in the direction of the apartments on the other side of town. He can hear Emma bark directions at Snow to keep watch on Henry.

"David," Emma hisses as she waddles to catch up. "What are you doing?"

He looks down at her stomach again, his eyes softening even as his resolve thickens. "I'm making sure your child has a father."

"And you are not going to force anything, David, you are not my fa—" she cuts herself off, looking stricken. She shakes her head. "I don't want to be with someone just because I'm pregnant," she amends.

He stops, turning towards her. "And is that why are you with him?"

She freezes, a flash of fear taking her over before she bites down on her lip and looks sharply at the ground. "Not just because of this thing," she admits. She brings her eyes to meet his, and they _are_ so like her mother's, but harder than Snow's ever could be. "You can't just show up suddenly and start taking over my life. That's not how it works."

His eyes widen and he carefully brings his hands to touch her shoulders. "That's not what I'm doing. I just … I have almost three decades to make up for. Let me help here."

She stares at him a long moment, and he watches the mix of emotion play behind those ocean-colored irises. "It's between me and Graham," she says slowly.

He nods. "Yes. But I'm here just in case." He wants so badly to be here for her, to protect her from what may come. He knows, rationally, that this is an adult woman in front of him, with a career and a life and on her second child … but all the dreams he had of parenthood while Snow was pregnant haven't vanished quite so effortlessly in seeing her once again. He _needs_ to do something, _anything,_ to help.

"Fine," she says, with a shrug that doesn't cover the worry.

He nods once, turning back towards his route. She sighs heavily, falling into step with him. She takes her key out of her pocket and hesitates a long moment. He presses his hand against her upper back supportively before she rolls it off, twisting the knob deliberately.

"Graham?" she calls.

The man pops out from the kitchen, a cup of something that smells like exceptionally strong coffee following him. He smiles, his eyes soft. "Em." He looks over at David, and something passes over his face that looks a bit like guilt. "Oh, David. What are you doing here?"

Emma's brow furrowed as she stepped forward. "Graham, why are you … why aren't you freaking out?"

His brow rose. "That there's company? Mary Margaret comes by often enough," he says with a shrug. He rubs a hand through his hair before smiling sheepishly at David. "Sorry, just waking up. Had the night shift last night."

David doesn't understand any better than Emma. This man acts as if nothing had changed. As if he is still just in his cursed personality, unaffected from the break.

Emma stomps up to him and yanks the cup out of his hands. Her eyes are flaming, and suddenly David wonders if he really should be there. "You're not supposed to be drinking coffee," she says, her voice crackling. She tosses it to the sink and gives no care when the porcelain shatters. "_Why aren't you different_?"

Graham looks absolutely flummoxed. "I – I'm sorry. It was just a long night." His eyes flash from her face to David and then back again. "What's going on?"

Emma laughs bitterly, and David's heart wrenches to hear the presence of more tears. "Is this a _joke_?"

David steps up, gaining the nerve to stand up for his daughter. "Emma deserves to hear the truth, Huntsman," he growls out.

David watches as Graham's face loses every bit of color, slowly dripping from his skin like an hourglass. Fear sets into his features. He lets out a shuddered breath, and then turns back to Emma. "You broke it?" he asks hoarsely, the first tendrils of pride showing through.

Emma rears back. "Of course I did. Why don't you … I don't understand!" she shouts, gripping her hair at the scalp.

Graham frees her hands and grabs them in his, quickly entwining their fingers. He shoots a worried glance at David before refocusing on Emma. "Emma, I am so happy you broke it for everyone. But you broke mine when we truly first kissed," he explains, his voice just above a whisper.

David flushes, and steps back a few paces. A curse broken with a kiss? Before everyone else? He knows what this is a sign of.

Emma's eyes are still wide and worried, but Graham only squeezes her hands with a smile. "I've known this whole time how amazing you are."

She yanks one of her hands free and slaps him hard across his face. David even jerks back at the quick, violent action. "_This whole time you knew_?"

He works his jaw a moment, but his gaze is still gentle. "You had to come to believe it on your own," he replies, resting his forehead on hers for a moment before pulling back. He looks somber as he pulls back and meets David's eye. "I know there will be responsibilities, now. If you're here to tell me she's already betrothed or something …."

David gapes at him. "What? No!"

Graham's face flashes over with relief, and a slow blush crawls up his neck. He leans forward, into Emma. "I made you a promise, Emma. One I made with my whole heart," he says into her hair.

"But don't you not have one?" David interjects. He is actually quite confused about that. Everything he's heard about the Heartless Ones has been tales of emotionless beings, set to follow orders. Everything he sees of Graham has been anything but.

Graham looks down briefly before looking back at Emma. "I've thought about it a long time. I could … I've been able to feel ever since Emma came to town. A little with Henry, but … but more with Emma."

She looks confused, pressing her hand against his chest. "_Literally_? You _literally_ didn't have one?"

Graham nods. "Told you so," he teases with a small smirk. Then he looks down at her stomach. "I've thought about it a long time. I think," he swallows, placing a palm against her belly. "I think all three of us combined brought it back."

Emma blinks rapidly, bringing her hands to his shoulder to pull him in close. "So … you've known. And you're not … it's all …. You're staying …"

"Everything I could ever want or need is with you," he replies honestly.

David backs up further. He's intruding, he knows it. At least now he finds it safe to leave; as long as Emma's happy, he's okay.

"How did you break the curse, anyway?" Graham asks.

Emma smiles, laughing shortly. "Well, Henry died."

David's head popped up in unison with Graham's. "Wait, _what_?"


End file.
